


A Feather Is A Useful Thing

by adaille



Series: Dean’s decisions get him in trouble [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feathers & Featherplay, First Kiss, M/M, Object Insertion, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Sort Of, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 01:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adaille/pseuds/adaille
Summary: Dean has fun with one of Castiel’s molted primaries while the angel is away.###There was an ache in Dean’s chest shaped like Cas, and it’d only grown during the two weeks the angel had been gone. Dean missed him, like he’d miss any of his friends.Cas didn’t call, either. Not that he had to check in with Dean or anything.It’d be nice if he would check in, but it wasn’t like Dean needed to hear his voice. No, Dean was fine. More than fine.And he was only going into Castiel’s room to make sure it didn’t need to be dusted. The fact that it smelled like ozone and rain where Cas liked to read at night was incidental.





	A Feather Is A Useful Thing

There was an ache in Dean’s chest shaped like Cas, and it’d only grown during the two weeks the angel had been gone. Dean missed him, like he’d miss any of his friends.

Cas didn’t call, either. Not that he had to check in with Dean or anything.

It’d be nice if he would check in, but it wasn’t like Dean needed to hear his voice. No, Dean was fine. More than fine.

And he was only going into Castiel’s room to make sure it didn’t need to be dusted. The fact that it smelled like ozone and rain where Cas liked to read at night was incidental.

He sat down on Castiel’s bed because he was suddenly tired from all the walking around he’d been doing in the bunker, not because he wanted to bury into Castiel’s pillow and breathe that scent in deeper.

If he moaned a little and shifted his hips to rub against Castiel’s blanket, well, the mattress was comfortable. Anyone would’ve done it.

His hands caught against something smooth under the pillow, and he sat up, tugging the object free. It was a feather. Inky black and iridescent, longer than his forearm, the blade as wide as the length of his hand, the shaft...the shaft -

Dean swallowed.

Primary feathers, Sam had called the long ones on the edges of Castiel’s wings primary feathers. This had to be one of them.

He touched his tongue to his lips, then lifted the feather to his nose and breathed. The zing of ozone went straight to his cock, and he adjusted himself in his sweatpants.

No one would ever know if he - if he -

Dean rubbed the feather against his cheek, flicking the tip under the lobe of his ear, drawing out a whimper at the static tingle.

He’d been hiding so long he couldn’t even admit the longing to himself most days, but the need to feel the angel close by was clamoring inside him, sinking its teeth into him. Without pausing to think about what he was doing, he stripped off his tank top, dropped it to the floor, picked up the feather, and stroked it down his chest.

Electricity crackled from residual grace, and the smell of a spring thunderstorm intensified. He shifted his knees wider and flicked the tip across his nipple, biting his lip to hold back the moan.

God, he missed Cas. Why couldn’t Cas just -

Just stay.

He flicked his other nipple, brushing the feather rapidly back and forth, peaking the nub until it was pink and over-sensitive, repeating the movement on the other side. His breathing was shallow and reedy, and little gasps and moans escaped as he continued rubbing the feather across his exposed chest and neck.

Tentatively, he licked the tip, wanting to see if Cas tasted like lightning. The static jolt shot straight through him, his cock plumping quickly from half hard to fully erect, tenting his sweatpants.

“Cas - “

His tongue flicked out again, licking longer stripes down the feather until he flipped it over, taking the shaft’s tip into his mouth. Dean nearly sobbed at the sensation of residual grace leaking into his mouth and over his tongue; Castiel’s energy was clearly more concentrated where the feather had attached to his body.

He licked and suckled the feather, the shaft as wide around as two of his fingers and longer than his hand, keening as the feelings rocketed through his body.

“Cas - “

If only he could get this little piece of Cas further in without choking. He’d swallow it, devour it, take it inside himself, anything to feel closer, feel those zipping tingling electric sensations everywhere at once.

Take it inside himself.

He popped off, staring at the spit-slick shaft.

He’d tried fingering himself before, but he’d never put anything else up there. Guys had never appealed to him the way Cas did (not that Cas appealed to him sexually, of course not, no, never, insisted the part of his brain that sounded like John). Anything else just seemed crude.

But not feathers. Especially Castiel’s feathers, his feathers weren’t crude, they were...elegant. And tingly. And exciting. And shit, they were part of Cas, it would be almost like -

It would be almost like, like -

He bit his lip and pulled his pants off, dropping them next to his abandoned shirt on the floor. It would hurt a little without lube, but Dean wasn’t about to go to his own room, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t know if he’d mind even if it did. Sometimes, when Cas forgot his own strength and gripped Dean a little too tight, it felt a little too good in that buried spot inside him that he tried to ignore.

He licked down the shaft again, wetting it as best he could, then tested a finger against his puckered hole. It felt okay, not great, but he wasn’t sure exactly what to do past this point. The spit-slick shaft felt cold trailing down his crevice, and he pulled one cheek to the side, teasing himself by pushing the pointed tip where he wanted it.

The intensity of the zing shooting up inside had him arching away from the pressure, and he almost lost his grip on the shaft. He lay there panting and collecting himself again as his need pooled and grew, his cock starting to leak fluid onto Castiel’s blanket.

Feeling braver, he moved the tip back to his hole and began working it in, the burn mingling with pleasure as the residual grace came into contact with his inner heat. He keened and pushed it in too fast, needing more, needing something of Cas, anything of Cas inside him. The pain drew a shout from his lips and his thighs started to shake, but he didn’t pull it out. He couldn’t make himself pull it out, he wanted it too badly. He needed it.

In confused agony, he started pressing it in again, chasing more of the grace, but the intensity began to dissipate as it leached from the feather into his body.

No, no no no. He needed more, not less. Not fair, it wasn’t fair. He needed Cas, he needed - “Cas!”

“Hello, Dean. I - ”

“SHIT!” Dean shrieked and tried to pull the feather free, but he rolled to cover himself at the same time, accidentally forcing the entire shaft in at once. The sudden abuse had him coming in long, humiliated streaks across Castiel’s bed, eyes open and on the angel. He tried to tug the primary free before he was done, but it caught inside him, dragging out a squeal and another spurt of come.

“I...you, you called me. I thought, I thought you - ” Cas floundered, his eyes on Dean’s flushed body. His voice dropped, gravel deep. “Dean.”

“Cas, oh, fuck, I’m so sorry. Shit shit shit - ”

“Dean, it’s alright. You’re alright.” He soothed a hand down Dean’s naked flank as if he was a skittish animal. “Let me see.”

“I can’t, I can’t get it out.” Dean felt heat spreading down from his neck as his entire body continued flushing in embarrassment.

“Move your hand, let me see.”

Dean obeyed, twisting to bury his face in Castiel’s pillow. Grace poured from Castiel’s hand, and Cas eased his feather free from Dean’s hole, rocking it back and forth against Dean’s rim on the way out. Dean bit into the pillow to muffle a groan, the effects of his humiliation and recent orgasm at war with the fact that he was naked, and Cas was touching him, and touching an object buried inside him.

Once it was free, the pain faded rapidly as Cas healed him. He felt a blanket settle over his waist, but the mattress didn’t shift again. The angel was still there, sitting next to him, waiting. Long minutes passed, and he tried to pretend if he didn’t look up and didn’t move, that Cas might leave and they wouldn’t have to have this conversation.

“Dean.”

Nope, no no no no -

“Dean, look at me.”

Not gonna look, nope nope nope -

“Dean.”

He rolled to the side with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Cas. Seriously, seriously sorry. I understand if you - ”

“I’m not angry, Dean.”

A glance up into Castiel’s face showed a small crinkle of humor, and...eyes that were so dilated the blue was almost swallowed by his pupils.

“Cas?”

The angel leaned down and pressed chapped lips against Dean’s. “Next time, call me first.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dean making questionable life choices is my jam right now, even if it’s a bit out of character. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Let me know if there’s any other bad decisions you’d like to see him make; I may turn this into a series.


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